


catch your breath

by scesisonomaton



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I wrote most of this in a day instead of working on my novel, Lies Sleeping Spoilers, there has been cursory editing, what we all wanted after Peter got out of that warehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scesisonomaton/pseuds/scesisonomaton
Summary: He caught me, of course. He always did.just a lil extra scene that BA must've just forgotten to add. silly of him.





	catch your breath

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've been writing pretty much exlusively Regency-era fiction for the last two years, I hope it doesn't show too much.
> 
> First couple of paragraphs are from page 332 of Lies Sleeping, because I needed a semi-smooth transition.
> 
> Inspired by the fandom collectively yelling on tumblr.

When the cop cars come screaming to a halt outside a bank robbery, the bit the films don’t show is the two hours of us milling about as we all sort out who’s going to do what to who and under what legislation.

And that’s not counting the risk assessment.

I felt Foxglove tremble at Nightingale’s approach, but he was careful and patient and we all got through the introductions without anyone biting anyone. I briefed him on what I knew about the layout of what had indeed turned out to be a former factory and on my best guess of the likelihood of booby traps (high) or minions (low).

He nodded and took notes while Sahra entertained Foxglove, but when I asked him what the plan was he frowned at me. ‘The plan is to get you looked over by the paramedics,’ he said, ‘and from there either to a hospital or back to the Folly, depending on their verdict.’

 ‘I’m fine, boss.’ Being stuck in a hospital room while they raided the first proper lair we’d found of Chorley’s, the first real opportunity to put a spoke in the wheel of his messed-up plans, was absolutely out of the question.

 ‘Peter,’ Nightingale said, interrupted himself, and turned around to send Guleed and Foxglove to wait by the car. Foxglove sent me an alarmed look, but I smiled and promised I’d catch up and that seemed to reassure her.

When Nightingale looked back at me, his expression could have been carved out of marble.  ‘Peter, you were kidnapped and held captive for several days by the most ruthless practitioner I have had the displeasure to know in over fifty years. If you believe we will allow you to put yourself in danger until you have had three full meals and a solid night’s sleep at the very least, you are sorely mistaken.’

I could feel myself getting angry, and I knew it wasn’t the response I should be having to being told to take it easy, but I couldn’t stop it. ‘Who’s we, then?’ I asked, crossing my arms.

 ‘The Metropolitan Police, for one,’ Nightingale said, mirroring my posture. ‘Dr Walid, for another. Most importantly, however, Beverley and I have been extremely worried, and the least you can do is give us the peace of mind of knowing you are healthy and whole and not going to get in trouble for at least a few days.’

 ‘I don’t mean to get in trouble,’ I protested, but something started to crack inside me. Fuck, Bev was going to be furious.

Nightingale sighed. ‘Of course you don’t.’

For the first time I saw the dark circles under his eyes, the creases in his suit jacket, the way his tie was just a little too loose. That’s what did me in, I reckon. He was my boss, he was the Nightingale, and here he stood looking as if he hadn’t slept for three days. Ever since I’d watched him dismantle a farmhouse and throw it at Varvara with the flick of his wrist, I’d sort of thought of him as the centre of everything, the unmovable rock around which the world moves. Now, though…

 ‘Shit,’ I said, because something that felt like a hot crowbar jammed itself into the cracks of my composure, and I crumpled forward.

He caught me, of course. He always did.

I honestly didn’t mean to, but I ended up with my face pressed into his shoulder, fists clutching at his lapels, and Nightingale held me close while I fell apart right there in the toiletries aisle of a fucking Nisa Local with a full complement of coppers less than a hundred yards away. I wasn’t crying exactly but I couldn’t stop shaking like I’d just been dropped in a bathtub full of ice, and if Nightingale hadn’t been there I definitely wouldn’t have stayed on my feet. Even so my legs were giving in and we ended up on the floor again anyway, me with my head between my knees and him crouching next to me, one arm wrapped around my shoulders.

I heard him say ‘It’s okay’ as if my ears were filled with cotton wool, and ‘You’re safe now, I have you,’ and I still couldn’t stop shivering.

I couldn’t even remember how many days I’d been down there. Not quite a week, probably. The only reason I was still alive was because Lesley had made some sort of deal with Chorley about keeping me alive, and I’d only gotten out because of Foxglove. I’d been stuck in a hole with absolutely no way of escape, no way to fight back, nothing I could _do_ –

Except I had escaped. I was here, wasn’t I? And I’d gotten Foxglove out with me, which I had to believe was a good thing because I couldn’t stand the idea of her working for Chorley. We were out, we were safe, and Nightingale was gripping my arms and telling me it was going to be fine, and I had to believe him, didn’t I? He’s very convincing like that.

At some point an older white guy in an EMT uniform poked his head around the corner and Nightingale asked me, very seriously, if I thought I could get up and walk. It wasn’t very elegant, and I was extremely glad that he kept his hand around my elbow, but I made it out of the shop and into the back of the ambulance, which Guleed had thoughtfully called almost as soon as I’d told her where I was.

Nightingale tucked the shock blanket around me himself. ‘I need to be the first person to go into that building,’ he said, frowning. ‘I don’t want to hear anything about you refusing to go to hospital if you are told to do so, understood?’

The shaking had subsided enough that I wasn’t worried about biting my tongue off anymore but I was definitely still trembling. It was probably a good thing that nobody had handed me the requisite mug of hot sweet tea yet, because I would’ve just spilled that all over myself. ‘Yes sir.’

 ‘Good. Beverley already knows that you escaped; you should call her as soon as you have the opportunity. Your parents, too.’

 ‘Yes sir.’

Nightingale leaned forward and peered at me with his grey eyes narrowed. ‘You did extremely well getting yourself and…?’

 ‘Foxglove,’ I supplied.

 ‘Foxglove out of there. You have uncovered one of Chorley’s bases and given us the best shot we currently have of figuring out what he is planning. You have done your part. Let us handle the rest.’ He squeezed my arm before he left to make sure nobody got themselves blown up by metaphysical tripwire, and left me at the mercy of the paramedics, who concluded I was physically unharmed and consented to have me sent back to the Folly in one of the patrol cars, but I had to promise I’d get some rest. Foxglove rode in the back with me, clutching at my arm and staring out the window with wide eyes, but I barely even registered her presence.

Dr Walid wasn’t nearly as blasé about my escaping my dungeon as the paramedics had been. He hid it well but I was still shaken up and couldn’t stop rubbing at the finger where the alligator clasp had been, and when he’d made me explain he sat me down right there on the bottom step in the atrium and refused to let me move until he’d satisfied himself that my heart wasn’t beating in ¾ time and I’d been booked in for an EKG the day after.

 ‘You should call your parents,’ he said just before he left. ‘And let Thomas know that you’re okay.’

I ran my hands over my face. All I wanted right now was to crawl into bed and not come out until Christmas. ‘I just saw him, he’s probably busy at the warehouse.’

 ‘He’s been worried,’ Dr Walid said. ‘We all have been.’

 ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

 ‘It wasn’t your fault, Peter.’ He clapped me on the shoulder with perhaps more vehemence than he meant to. ‘Call me if you start feeling dizzy or fatigued.’

I assured him that I would, and although I don’t think he was really satisfied with my response, he left me to it. I called my parents and left a voicemail, knowing my mum would see my number and not bother to listen to it before calling me back, and then I took Toby for his walk.

Crossing the street into Russell Square proper, I fished out one of the backup phones I’d stockpiled in the Folly and called Nightingale’s mobile. He picked up at the second ring, which I hadn’t been expecting.

 ‘We just finished our first sweep of the building,’ he explained. ‘We are waiting for Seawoll to decide on a course of action.’

 ‘Did you find anything?’

Nightingale cleared his throat. ‘Nothing immediately useful, unfortunately. We have recovered some suspect material and some frankly disturbing contraptions but no indication of what their plan might be. Are you back at the Folly?’

 ‘Yeah,’ I said, watching Toby sniff at a bush. ‘Just taking Toby out.’

 ‘I assume I do not have to tell you to please be careful.’

 ‘I’m always careful, boss,’ I said, but I knew he didn’t believe me from the way he went silent for a good thirty seconds.

 ‘I will have to stay here and wait in case Chorley or Lesley turn up,’ he said finally. ‘But I don’t believe they will.’

Toby looked at me with his head tilted and proceeded to raise his leg against a lamppost. ‘Probably not,’ I conceded.

There was another silence, and then: ‘Peter, are you sure you’re okay?’

 ‘Doing fine, boss.’ I was barely even trembling anymore, and I could really use that cup of tea right about now, if Toby didn’t object too much. ‘Cleared by Dr Walid and everything.’

Nightingale made an indistinct noise. I don’t think he was convinced. ‘I didn’t get the chance earlier,’ he began, and then stopped. I waited while I tried to persuade the dog that it was time to go back inside.

 ‘You should never have been in a position for this to happen to you,’ he said finally, and I coughed.

 ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I demanded. ‘That I wasn’t supposed to go after Lesley?’

 ‘No, Peter, it means that as your teacher I should have been able to prevent you from coming to harm, and as much as I am proud of the progress you have made, it is my responsibility to protect you. I failed at that.’

I wondered where he was right now, because I couldn’t picture him having this conversation with me while surrounded by coppers. It was a stupid conversation to be having anyway, because it wasn’t his fault. It was the job, and the fucking Faceless Man and Lesley and the fact that there were only two of us to deal with all this bullshit. But Nightingale didn’t think like that. Nightingale was serious about that master and apprentice business way beyond being my senior officer, which I guess made sense considering that if you teach someone magic they might fry their brains if you don’t do it right.

I didn’t know how to respond to that other than saying: ‘It’s not your fault, is it?’

He sighed again and I heard the Jag’s door open and close and the sudden absence of background noise as he got into the car. ‘Have you called your parents?’

 ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Voicemail.’

 ‘And Beverley?’

 ‘As soon as I get back inside.’

 ‘She did not take it well,’ Nightingale said, which, knowing Bev, was probably an understatement. Another pause, and then: ‘To be honest, neither did I.’

Shit. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

 ‘If you think we hold you in any way responsible, Peter, you are wrong. But I thought you might need to hear it; there are people who care about you and your wellbeing, and if anything like this happens ever again, I believe those of us capable of turning the city upside down to find you will not hesitate to do so.’


End file.
